Serena

O n e

I look around the room, avoiding the faces of those that sit in a circle around me. Today is Tuesday, which means that we have a combined session known as "circle group" because—you guessed it—we sit in a circle.

They aren't too clever when it comes to names around here.

We are all patients of Silverwing Behavioral Health Hospital, each facing our own battles. Some of us were lucky—like me—as we only have to come here throughout the week for a few hours while others take up permanent residency at this lovely facility. I'm all for advocating for mental health of course, it just must suck to have to be here 24/7.

I look at the ancient clock on the wall, willing the long wooden arms to move quicker. It's already almost four in the afternoon and I still have things I needed to do for the upcoming week.

The clearing of Dr. Kim's voice gains my attention and I tear my eyes away from the wall, wondering who the unlucky person is that she will call upon.

From the way her steel grey eyes are focused on mine, I know that it's me and I stiffen in my plastic blue chair.

"Serena, what is going in your mind right now?" she asks, clipboard in hand ready to scribble down my words only to dissect them in the quietness of her office later. "What, no, 'How are you feeling' nonsense today? Or 'Remember, you're safe now' bologna?" I think to myself.

I let out a slow exhale, and blink. I should have known that I wouldn't have been able to stay silent the entire time. It was inevitable that she would get to me sooner or later. "Honestly?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. She smiles and gives an encouraging nod, leaning forward slightly in her seat eager for my response. "Well, I was wondering how much longer we were going to be here," I say in truth.

A few of my fellow patients snicker while others shoot me confused or angry looks. I didn't give her that response to get a rise from anyone, it's just that I really didn't have anything to say. I don't like talking about my "feelings" or what had happened—especially not in front of so many people that were practically strangers. I mean, sure, I had known them for almost a year now, but I wouldn't call any of them my friends. The only one I remotely cared for was a mad girl named Tara about my age that was a permanent resident of Silverwing, and that was because she would randomly come up to me and tell me things that I found either sweet or amusing.

Dr. Kim frowns, causing the faint wrinkles that had started to form around her mouth to become more prominent. Ignoring my answer, she moves on to another question that she believes will get a different answer. "Are you ready to start school tomorrow?"

A lump forms in my throat and I struggle to swallow it. Tomorrow is the start of my senior year and my returning debut to Monroe High after going M.I.A. in the beginning of junior year. After everything happened, my aunt had withdrawn me from school immediately and I started virtual school from home among other things, including seeing a therapist.

I kept in contact with the few friends that I had of course, so I wasn't completely dead to the world, but rumors quickly spread about my absence. I had heard of the things that was said about me and read what was posted on social media. Ignoring them was my only option but it didn't make things easier. Before, comments or rumors would roll off of me like water on wax, but things had changed—I had changed— and I had no idea what would happen tomorrow.

Safe to say, I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified to return to school.

I chew the inside of my lip, feeling seventeen pairs of eyes on me. Not everyone knew what my story was as they would separate us sometimes into smaller groups based on what our reasons for being a patient was in the first place. For example, there was those that had attempted suicide, those that were abused in past relationships—both by family members or spouses—those that were addicted to substances, those that were generally mentally unfit, a few that had gone through traumatic ordeals like a sudden death of a loved one or a car accident that left them bound to a chair, and those that were like me.